


Hold Fast

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alley Sex, Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Insults, M/M, alchohol, but a lot of animosity, no violence, references to adultry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4328793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Faust: Who holds the devil, let him hold him well, He hardly will be caught a second time.”<br/>― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust: Part 1</p>
<p>Chrollo meets Silva in a bar and the anger is still there. He isn't going to let Silva go so easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Fast

**Author's Note:**

> christ you guys seem to love this pairing. im gonna fill this entire tag myself, just watch me. this continues on from the first one vaguely but theres no need to read the first one for any context beyond what's already established in canon. enjoy!

When eyes met across the crowded bar, Chrollo felt himself grin. He swirled the wine in his glass and winked at the assassin, downing the drink in one pull. His night had just gotten far more interesting.

Silva Zoldyck sat in the far corner, massive figure doing more to deter patrons than the low quality alcohol or dingy interior. There was a predatory nature endemic to him. It showed in the slope of his shoulders, the deft preternatural swiftness of his fingers against the tabletop. His catlike eyes burned cleanly, like the scotch on his tongue, and Chrollo sauntered up to his table with nerves alight.

“Fancy seeing you here. How are the kids?”

The glass threatened to crack in Silva’s hand. “I could kill you if the desire ever found me, Lucilfer. Don’t press your luck,” Silva nearly growled, his voice that deep rumble that Chrollo could still sometimes feel in his chest.

Chrollo pressed his luck.

He sat down in the seat opposite him and snatched the glass from Silva’s large hand. “Somehow I think if the desire ever found you, you wouldn’t be all that inclined to kill me.” Chrollo sipped the drink and furrowed his nose, not expecting the shitty whiskey. Silva glared and Chrollo ran his tongue along the rim of the glass.

Silva snorted in derision and broke eye contact. The shame, anger, something else all present on his face. Chrollo took it as a victory.

He traced his fingers along the length of the glass and cocked his head, licking his liquor tinged lips. “I like it when you use my name. It almost makes it seem like you consider me a person,” he said conversationally, crossing his legs beneath the table. “You ever think about me, way up in your castle on the mountain?” He took another sip, leaned into Silva’s space.

There was no response, at least not a verbal one, and Chrollo wasn’t surprised. He poured himself another drink and went on.

“You think about what you took from me? What I gave to you?”

There. A reaction, slight, but there, buried somewhere in the corner of downturned lips. “What do you want from me, Lucilfer?” It was something like desperation in his voice, but not quite so clear cut. Chrollo drank it in. A sweet chaser to follow the low shelf drink.

“I want what I want. Nothing more,” he began, offering the glass back to Silva. “Nothing less.” Silva took it and Chrollo smiled lazily. There was heat in his eyes, enough to color his cheeks with the help of the alcohol, and it made everything a beautiful shade of ambiguous.

The reins were in Silva’s hands and Chrollo waited for him to decide what direction to go. As he waited, he bit his lip and smiled. The war battling itself out in Silva’s conscience was plainly visible, a show to entertain him while he waited.

A door closed somewhere behind him and it seemed to have made Silva make his choice. The assassin cleared his throat and clenched his fists, all but telegraphing his choice. They rose and Chrollo led the way out the back of the bar with a swagger in his step and a loose jaunt to his hips.

The grimy alley way was marginally better than their last location but only just. The brick carried the look of having witnessed countless dalliances, seen so many faces and sins and secrets that only destruction would truly erase. Chrollo was turned, slammed into the wall, Silva’s massive hands pinning him in place easily. He laughed through the breathlessness at the look of abject anger, guilt, and lust all fighting for supremacy in cobalt eyes.

Silva snarled and forced their mouths together, swallowing the laughter entirely. It was just as violent as before, all teeth and no kindness to be found. Chrollo let Silva ravage his mouth, let him pour out his frustrations. His hands sunk into the hard flesh of Silva’s arms until they were torn from his shirt.

“On your knees,” Silva ordered, steel piercing the heavy mood. His hands came to Chrollo’s shoulders and weighed him down. “If you want this so much then put your mouth to better use, Lucilfer.” His name was spat like a curse, like the sweetest betrayal. Knees hit the pavement hard enough to bruise and eagerness took over.

Chrollo stared up at the assassin with a victorious grin slashing across his face and began to nuzzle the hardness. “Does this make you feel in control? Standing above me like a guilt-ridden god,” he asked, voice so innocent it grated. His fingers dragged along the thick thighs and teeth opened the fasteners.

The cock flushed in the dim lighting and Chrollo felt strong fingers tighten in his hair. He pressed his lips to the head and exhaled, sending a shiver through the man trying his damnedest to lock down any emotion besides rage. He pulled back enough to stare up at Silva through his eye lashes, long silver hair nearly obscuring the sight.

Silva was breathing through grit teeth, pale complexion sepia under the streetlights. It was like staring at a photograph struggling to remain fixed in its frame. Chrollo smiled, dragged his tongue along the length and let the man have his perceived dominance.

His head was brought ruthlessly down, lips stretched wide and throat filled. There was little consideration, no grace or courtesy given to let him adjust. Chrollo took it like he took everything else and made it work. Silva bit down on his moan of appreciation and fucked Chrollo’s throat, no more control to be found evidently.

Chrollo opened his throat, moaned around the cock, and shoved a hand down his own trousers. He doubted Silva would reciprocate, not after he looked down and realized he had fallen from grace yet again. The friction was heavenly and Chrollo spared no noise from Silva.

Dark hair was pulled brutally, speeding the rhythm up. Silva let his fingers wander along the soft skin of Chrollo’s neck, his full cheeks, his lust-muddled eyes. They were the only gentle part of the entire situation and white hot anger pounded through Chrollo’s veins. Hands that cradled his chin had torn the life from his subordinate. Chrollo pressed his nose into a hipbone and swallowed, determined to rip the assassin’s orgasm from his body like the heart he found lying beside his Spider.

It didn’t take long and the thought was only slightly gratifying at this point. Chrollo swallowed the release as it came, unable to pull away from the hand forcing his head into place. His hand kept pumping and the groan above combined with the ache in his knees had him following soon after. When Silva finally pulled away, the ache took his place. It felt right in a way. Like shared penance. Revenge.

The feeling was short lived. Silva stroked the disheveled hair and pulled Chrollo to his feet, supporting his small frame easily. Again he was so very gentle, tactile and open in an intimate way that spoke of long post-coital habit. So different from before. Chrollo smirked at the assassin and ignored the way it stung his jaw.

“Better than drinking alone, right?” The question came out rasped and wrecked and Chrollo savored the shudder that wracked Silva’s body. He leaned into the man, coaxing his arms around him and burrowing into his chest. The intimacy was cloying, its own type of betrayal. He wanted Silva to drown in it. In him.

Large hands stroked up and down his back, burning through the coat and devouring every inch of him. Chrollo angled his head up, kissed the granite lips and shared the taste still coating his mouth. For once there were no teeth, no bloody scuffle to hurt and be hurt. Just a soft press, feather light, and somehow dirtier than everything up to that point.

They pulled apart and Chrollo watched Silva gather himself, remember. His jawline hardened and Silva turned to leave. Chrollo leaned against the wall and watched him walk off, heart full and body still thrumming.

“Let the family know I said hello,” Chrollo called out to the retreating back. If there was a reaction, well, Chrollo could only hope.

**Author's Note:**

> and there goes another one! im surprised i got this out tbh, i had a con this weekend and that coupled with the mounting school work really had me pressed for time. I got it done though! so lucky for you guys! anyway, check me out on tumblr (terminallydepraved) and let me know how you guys liked this! if you've got any ideas for more fics, feel free to drop me a message. no guarantee ill do it but i always appreciate inspiration. until next time!


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